Hermione Winslow-Everett
by armin44
Summary: When Hermione's parents are killed in a car crash, she is adopted by a pure-blood couple and lives a very different life. They think that saving the world, changing Slytherins and completing the prophecy should be left to Harry Potter? Huh, they are up for a big surprise. (DM x HG)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and so do the rest of the characters, apart from minor OC - those are created by me. The plot also belongs to me, so I am to blame for every plot-hole you might see in the future :)

**xxxx**

**CHAPTER ONE: HERMIONE WINSLOW-EVERETT**

Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett were no ordinary wizards as some would expect them to be. They lived on Sylvester Road, just two minutes away from Barham Park and it usually took them a total of four minutes to reach Wembley train station, so overall they were satisfied with their location.

However, living in one of the busies cities in the world had its perks and in no way limited their magic usage - on the very contrary, living in a lively area like Wembley meant hundreds and hundreds of people coming and leaving every day. How low were the chances of someone noticing something unusual, save for their quiet neighbours?

Mr. Winslow-Everett previously held a single surname - Winslow - and changed his surname to a double-barrelled, along with his wife, after they got married. His physical appearance was, for the lack of other words, disgustingly ordinary. Ironed crispy shirt, black suit, tie that never stood out; his hair was always up, usually fixed by tonnes of hair gel and sprays. If one saw him in a crowd, he would forget Mr. Winslow-Everett a few seconds later as there was absolutely nothing memorable about him.

Similarly, Mrs. Winslow-Everett, nee Everett, was a perfect example of a housewife from 40s, save for the way she dressed. She always had her hair tied back, with a hair band ensuring nothing got into her eyes while she was cleaning the house or doing something else. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Winslow-Everett didn't wear casual clothes; instead, her wardrobe was filled with summer dresses and baggy t-shirts, some of which included slang words that she was completely unaware of. And while her husband was said to be smelling like a pile of books and old documents, her scent was a mixture of home-cooked meals and flower beds.

And yet, no one was aware of the fact that this couple was, in fact, no ordinary couple. In fact, they were so un-ordinary, that even the couple that lived on the other side of the street - Jenna and Rufus who were constantly taken to the police office due to different offences - were seen by the two as ordinary. That was, of course, because they were wizards, but that wasn't the end of it.

Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett were pure-blood wizards who wanted to have children for quite a few years now but, after seven or so years together, they weren't able to. This, of course, was a tragedy itself: a couple, consisting of two pure-bloods, couldn't have a pure-blood child? Everyone in the wizard world were overly aware of how little pure-blood families still existed and every single one of them was encouraged to have children, to continue the pure-blood branch.

The obvious resolve to this was, of course, breaking some wizard rules and visiting a few shops in Knockturn Alley, but Mrs. Winslow-Everett said straight out that she won't be engaged in any sort of dangerous or suspicious business and her husband could do nothing but agree with her.

Unfortunately for the two, the fact that they were pure-blood wizards that couldn't have children wasn't the only thing that was so odd about them. The issue was that Mr. Winslow-Everett has being previously exposed to _Crucio _and has never been the same since then. Unlike the majority that experienced the use of this spell on themselves one or two times, he experienced far, _far _more than that and this has severely damaged him, both mentally and physically.

As a result, it wasn't unusual for Mrs. Winslow-Everett to wake up in the middle of the night with her husband's hands around her waist with the latter one quietly whispering 'Help' and 'Save me' in his sleep, with a frown on his face and beads of sweat rolling down his chin. On some rare occasions, she would even wake up because something - more accurately, her husband's hands - were squeezing her throat, hence leaving her breathless. She never once mentioned it during their breakfast - or lunch or dinner, for that matter - and usually covered her bruised neck with a scarf or two. Of course, at the back of her head she believed that she deserved far better than this - anything would be better than waking up in the middle of the night with your loved one unconsciously killing you - especially seeing as she was a pure-blood, but they have lived together for over seven years and she had no intention of throwing it out of the window in hopes of finding a better husband.

About two years ago, Mr. Winslow-Everett began having some absolutely crazy ideas about That-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named suddenly attacking them because they were pure-bloods but didn't support his beliefs and decided to live in London, surrounded by muggles and everything muggle-made. Some time later, he began blabbering about _Him _being reincarnated and that reincarnated version becoming an evil wizard just as he did. She only shook her head and quietly drank her tea, thinking that it was just something that will stop in a due time.

Overall, they were managing their more or less ordinary existence. Mrs. Winslow-Everett cleaned the house, ironed and washed the dishes using charms and her loving husband cast a spell or two whenever he struggled cooking something - being one of the main cooks in an expensive restaurant was extremely stressful.

So when her husband didn't come home at six sharp on a Friday evening sometime in June of 1983, Mrs. Winslow-Everett knew that something was off. A rational part of her suspected that it was because he went to pub with his mates and celebrated Conservative's victory - in the end, they both supported Tories and Thatcher's success was indeed something to celebrate - but it has already been more than a few days since the general election. That, plus it was unusual of him to go and have a drink without telling her upfront.

A single ring - and she was already on her feet, rushing towards the phone.

"Hello?" she said hoarsely and coughed.

"Good evening. Am I speaking to Mrs. Winslow-Everett?" said a feminine voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes, yes. Did something happen to my husband?"

"No, he is completely alright. Unfortunately, he got into a car accident and the passengers in the other car-"

She didn't feel the need to listen to the end of her phrase and, after hanging up the phone, Mrs. Winslow-Everett, a pure-blood witch that lived on Sylvester Road and did shopping on her own, was out of the door, not forgetting to lock them on her way.

She used a spell that helped her find her husband and she was only able to get to the hospital in twenty or so minutes, thanks for the traffics and the extremely slow bus driver.

It didn't take long before she found out her husband's exact coordinates, so she walked up the stairs, trying to remain as composed as possible. He was alive and this was all that mattered.

A doctor just outside his room had to stop her before she entered. "I suppose you are his wife, Ma'am?"

"Yes, and I'm in a hurry," she said with a huff and finally entered the room. For extra privacy, she closed the door behind her and kept the sneaky (as she supposed) doctor out of this.

There, on a white hospital bed, sat her husband and he looked, pretty much, fine. In fact, he didn't seem to have a single scratch or wound on him, but it wasn't anything she didn't expect; in the end, he was a wizard, and that meant a few precaution spells while using muggle-made cars.

"Are you alright? Does anything hurt?" she let out worryingly, running up to her husband and giving him a tight hug. He responded to it with similar passion, but his voice trembled when he spoke up.

"I got into a car accident and two passengers in the other car... oh, Thalya, they died!"

Thalya stepped away and then sat down next to him, "Rowan, I'm sure that this wasn't your fault. Tell me exactly what happened."

And so he did. He told her how he was riding home from work, front lights of his car fully functional, and when he was about to turn right, a car rode right into his at amazing speed. The next thing he knew - the front of his car was smashed and he only survived, thanks to the protection charms.

They sat and spoke quietly for a few more minutes, each thinking of the bitterness of this situation, but it didn't erase the fact that Thalya was thankful for her husband's well-being; she didn't know what she would do if he died, too.

"But Thalya, that's not the whole story."

She instantly looked up, her gaze cautious and calculating. What _more _could there be?

"The two of them - a married couple, Grangers, if I'm not mistaken - have... _had_ a daughter."

Thalya covered her mouth in horror. Now, it wasn't only about two people dying - now it was also about a girl that was left without her parents as a result of a car crash. Oh, God, that made everything so much worse.

"D-Did they tell-"

"Hermione. Her name is Hermione - that's all I know. Apparently, she doesn't have any grandparents, so doctors - or whoever it is that in charge of these things - will give her up for adoption or something. The house will be taken away. She really is an orphan now."

Thalya didn't utter a word; instead, she stood up and stretched out her hand. There was really nothing more to add to it. "Is she here?"

"I think they have already brought her here - I heard someone mentioning her name."

She nodded and urged her husband to take her hand, so he followed her lead. "Where are we going?"

Silence. "We have to see her, Rowan."

Rowan gasped and looked at her in disbelieve. "You can't really expect me to-"

"Only I do," she cut him off sharply, wheels still moving in her head. She licked her lips and nodded towards the door. "I don't expect you to burst into the room, crying about how sorry you are, because it was neither your fault nor you should be held responsible for it. I just want you to... see her. I think she _needs _to see your face."

"_This _face will haunt her forever, if she sees it!" he shouted out and Thalya shooshed at him.

"It's hospital, for Godric's sake! And stop blabbering some nonsense - everyone knows that it wasn't your fault, so stop acting like it _was_."

Mr. Winslow-Everett opened his mouth in order to argue with his wife, but she already opened the door and told him to follow her. There was nothing more he could do but to follow her.

Corridors on this floor turned out to be much cleaner than those on a floor below, noted Thalya to herself. Everyone were pretty busy, especially the nurses - she could barely catch a glimpse of them before they ran past her, sorting out some paperwork on the way.

Even though it was quite late, life in hospitals was never quiet, and if it was then something was definitely going to happen in the near future.

When Mrs. Winslow-Everett asked one of the doctors about Hermione Granger, the frown on his face deepened as if she just asked about Hermione's dead parents.

"Follow me, please."

It turned out that the room that Hermione was currently occupying was just a few rooms away from Rowen's, so the latter didn't have enough time to emotionally prepare himself for this meeting. Surely, she will be shouting at him, if not actually try and attack-

And imagine his surprise and the loss of words that he felt when, instead of an image of some twelve-years-old girl that he already made up in his head, he was presented with a small girl with bushy hair, no older than four.

She was just a child. An innocent, completely clueless child, by the look of it - she simply set on one of the chairs and talked to one of nurses at the best of her abilities, all the while swinging her legs back and forth with a toothy smile on her face.

Rowen felt his wife tense and a single look told him as much - she wasn't so sure anymore as seeing this little girl completely threw her off.

"Oh, hello, did you want something?" said the nurse with a bright smile. "I was just explaining to Hermione that her parents disappeared but they will definitely be back, right, sweetheart?"

"Of course! And they will bring me lo-o-oads of chocolate!" said Hermione as she giggled to herself.

Thalya controlled the sob that almost left her lips. Why would they do it? Why would they lie to her, before giving her up for adoption? Doesn't she deserve to know the truth?

"I'm sorry, who are you?" the nurse asked them, tilting her head to the right. "I wasn't informed of any visitors."

"Ah, we are... that is, we-"

"They are your new parents!" said a cheery voice from behind, while caused Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett to swiftly turn around. There stood a doctor, no older than forty, who was smiling brightly at the small girl. It looked fake to Rowen's eyes but a simple child wouldn't be able to differentiate between an honest smile and a mere attempt of it. "Well, not new parents - I'd rather refer to them as people who will take care of you until your parents come back. How does that sound like?"

"I'm sad that my parents are away, but I guess I can't do anything about it..." said Hermione with a pout.

"Sorry, can we go outside for a moment?" said Rowen quietly and tried to put up a smile but it was pointless - he just wasn't the kind of person that smiled for no reason.

"Sure, sure."

When they finally left the room - Thalya went along - it took all of Rowen's will power not to take out wand from his back pocket and attack this poor excuse of a doctor. "What the hell was that?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett, I presume?" said 'Dr Harley', as it was stated on his badge. His smile was gone in a second, and now his face reminded Thalya that of an old man that went through so much, he no longer cared or got surprised about anything.

"Yes."

"And Mr. Winslow-Everett here was the one that ran into Grangers' car?"

Rowen took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerve and the feeling on his wife's hand on his shoulder was partly doing the job. "Yes, but-"

"Police is doing their jobs, you know," said Dr Harley as he tried to calm down his messy hair. "They are catching criminals, putting them into prisons, do their best to ensure our safety, and they simply don't have enough time for these kind of occurrences."

"You call a car accident an _occurrence_?" sneered Mrs. Winslow-Everett; she was never violent and she barely got angry, but right now this doctor's arrogant attitude and absolute coldness was just pissing her off. "Admittedly, this was an accident, but police still has to investigate and prove that my husband-"

"Wasn't guilty?" he finished for her. "We know. That's why two cars will be removed from the road overnight and there will be no charges held against Mr. Winslow-Everett. How do we know that? Well, we don't simply trust people who got out of a car accident completely unharmed, but we already called a few mechanics to give us an overview. It seemed that Grangers' car was partially broken and we can only assume that they were careless enough as to completely ignore the damage - and that became their undoing."

Pause. Winslow-Everetts glanced at each other, waiting for Dr Harley to continue, but he simply stood there, waiting for their further questioning.

"I'm glad that I'm not pressed with any charges, but it doesn't change the fact that what you told to that young girl was completely mad."

"Mad, you say?" asked Dr Harley with a longing look. He then snapped out of it and crossed arms on his chest. "It only seems fair, doesn't it? Nowadays, way too many people are giving their kids up for adoption, especially teen mums who were too ashamed of keeping their babies. I just wonder what caused this sudden rise in sexual intercourses and pregnancies, as a result..."

"Nevertheless, you seem like a perfectly normal couple. I was already given your files - all the crimes you've done, how many kids you have, whether you ever showed some sort of extreme violence, whether you were ever charged with drug usage, et cetera - and all these files stated that you will be perfect parents. You don't have any children yet, do you? Ever wanted children?"

Thalya couldn't stop thinking 'mad, mad, this man is completely mad', but somewhere deep inside she knew that he had a point. They wanted to have children - or just a child - for so long... And here was someone that was practically offering them to take one without dealing with any files and any arising casualties...

"We need to think," said Rowan sternly and took his wife's hand. She followed him silently before they entered an empty room and both on the sat on chairs, facing each other.

Thalya didn't know what to say; sure, she was brave enough to tell him to go see Hermione and face his fears, but now? Whatever she said on the matter would sound wrong. Take the baby? Well, her husband was in a way responsible for her parents' death, although not in a way that even police would see him as guilty. Leave the baby? But didn't Dr Harley say that they were going to give this baby up for adoption anyway? Besides, the list will be long... and what were the chances that she will have normal parents - although, who were they to call themselves anything close to normal?

"I-I don't know," Rowan finally said with a sigh and Thalya couldn't agree more. "This is a baby - a small human being - we are talking about. I was quite literally the reason she became orphan."

"Don't say that," whispered Thalya, looking down at her dress - today she was wearing a white dress with roses and petals, nothing unusual. Even she had to admit it to herself that some of her dresses had patterns much 'weirder' than this. "There isn't anyone to blame for this - only their broken car, okay?"

Rowan didn't seem as convinced by her words but she realised that this time she had to take actions in her own hands. Was it fate? Just how lucky - yes, it was a sick luck, but luck nevertheless - were they? The realisation that they were about to adopt a baby and see her grow finally hit Thalya. It seemed like her husband was closely watching her face expression as a moment later he swiftly sat straight and began massaging his forehead.

"Even if we adopt her, even if we accept the fact that this baby isn't ours and I was partly to blame for her parents' death... how will you deal with the fact that she isn't a wizard?"

"We wouldn't know for sure," Mrs. Winslow-Everett said after a short pause. Neither she nor her husband cared about blood purity all that much - only their parents - but it would be indeed unfortunate if the girl was a simple muggle. Even if they were able to present her to others as their own daughter, people will make assumptions that she is a squib and treat her worse that they treat muggles. On the other hand, if they were to tell people they adopted this child, people will still look at them in disapproval, thinking to themselves that they were so desperate, they didn't even mind adopting a muggle baby.

Thalya refused to succumb under the pressure; she ached to just lay down, squeeze her temples until it hurt and get at least an hour or two to think this over. But Dr Harley made it crystal clear that there was nothing to change about this situation; they were either going to excuse themselves and drive home like they would on an ordinary Sunday, or they will take care of Hermione, muggle or not.

"So... do you want to adopt her?" Rowan finally asked the question she dreaded the most. Mr. Winslow-Everett knew that he was asking too much - he was, quite frankly, making his wife make this crucial decision.

"I-I do," she finally said and this was it.

**xxxx**

"Miss, are we going to your house now?" Hermione asked innocently as they took a bus just down the street towards their house. Thalya made sure Hermione didn't leave their sight, so she kept holding her small hand in hers and smiling.

"Mmhmm, and this means that you will be able to try out some of my dishes. Oh, and you don't have to call me 'Miss' - Thalya will do."

"Tha-lya," Hermione repeated and grinned; her smile was so heart-warming, even the ever-grumpy Rowan couldn't resist but smile back.

"That's right, and this is Rowan."

"Ro-wan. Rowan and Thalya."

Hermione didn't make any noises for a few minutes and she seemed to be deep in her thought. The couple couldn't help but notice that she seemed quite smart for her age; her vocabulary was much better than that of an ordinary three years old, plus she seemed to apply some logic to her words. The girl was smart indeed.

"What are we having for dinner?" she finally asked and stumbled when the bus turned to the left.

"What would _you _like to have for dinner?" Thalya asked in return, exchanging glances with her husband who acted unnaturally quiet.

"Hmm, my Mum likes to make lasagne and couch-potatoes whenever dad comes home extremely hungry."

Rowan's heart squeezed - she still talked about her parents in present tense. He dearly hoped that she will stay completely unaware for at least a few more years.

"Then this is exactly what I will make, we'll just have to get the ingredients from a nearby shop. Want to go and help me with shopping?"

Hermione's face practically lit up as she vigorously nodded at the suggestion and squeezed Thalya's hand even tighter.

When the three of them got off the bus, Hermione and Thalya waved at Rowan who waved in return and headed towards their house.

Thalya tried acting as cheery as she could around this tiny human being; she read somewhere that children, like dogs, were extremely sensitive and over-aware of the emotions that their companion is experiencing. It was something innate and sometime even the slightest shift of mood could lead to a baby crying and sobbing because she or he didn't understand what was happening but something just wasn't right.

And Hermione seemed to like her this way; she told Thalya dozens of stories about her parents, the little adventures she had with them, like travelling abroad and visiting lots of different places, and lots of other different things that she could remember. Quite frankly, Mrs. Winslow-Everett was shocked at just how good her memory was - were kids at this age _that _smart? Or, perhaps, she was a special case?

But the images that she painted were amazing and Thalya couldn't stop thinking about all these little things: sunny beaches, seagulls, strong - almost sickening - smell of popcorn.

Shopping went quicker than she expected and they were next to house that rightfully belonged to Winslow-Everetts.

"Shopping with you was fun!" announced Hermione while Mrs. Winslow-Everett was searching through her pockets for the house key.

"Well, that's good, didn't want to seem like some boring old hag," she murmured and was about to use _Accio_ but mentally slapped herself. It didn't matter that Hermione was young, she would still understand that a sudden appearance of keys was unusual.

"Honey," she called out, hoping that her husband was in the house, instead of being at the backyard where he usually went while she was cooking their dinner. The ring next to their door broke months ago but neither was bothered by it, along with the fact that whenever they _did _think about it, they simply waved it off and thought about fixing it some other time.

When no answer came, she knocked on the door three times and sighed in relief when it was finally opened. "We bough some ingredients for dinner, along with a chocolate bar."

"Chocolate bar? My, I'd rather have some chocolate frog, if we have any in the cupboard," said Mr. Winslow-Everett which caused his wife to glare at him in annoyance and then swiftly nod towards the little girl to her right.

"You have chocolate frogs? Can I have some?" Hermione enquired with a big smile, but only received a confused exchange of looks between two adults.

"Ah, when I say 'chocolate frogs', I refer to the cookies in a form of frogs that are covered in chocolate," Rowan quickly amended, but it didn't seize her interest - in fact, she wanted to try one of those even more.

"O-o-oh, but can I have some?"

"Sorry, love, we are out of chocolate frogs... for quite some time now," Thalya explained with a soft smile and walked towards the kitchen, little Hermione following her a step behind. "Is little Miss going to help me with cooking?"

"Yes, Ma'am," she cheered; it was all that Mrs. Winslow-Everett needed to know.

**xxxx**

The next five years passed in a bliss - or that's what ordinary people would define their current situation. Just as Thalya expected, Hermione turned out to be an extremely smart and witty girl. At times it was difficult to separate her from books.

Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett made sure she won't be able to find anything magic-related, including books and moving photos, so they had to hide it under a bunch of blankets in the basement. It was truly strange to have someone who couldn't use magic in their house; now they were extremely cautious _in their own house _and only used magic when she wasn't around. Hidden meaning: never.

Yet it didn't make them upset, nor it annoyed them - even the slightest bit. Truth to be told, it was nice to finally have someone else around, apart from themselves, who was able to lighten up everything around them by simply being there.

It didn't take them very long to get accustomed to each other. Due to Hermione's bright character, sometimes she would just sit on the kitchen table, wiggling her legs, and tell Mrs. Winslow-Everett about some little details and snippets of her past with the latter one cooking and occasionally nodding. Thalya, in return, told her a bit about herself - how she was born in a rich family and how everyone expected her to go on and be someone well-known and rich, yet she failed to do so and now lived with her husband in one of the busiest cities in the world. Of course, she didn't utter a word about magic and her being a pure-blood, but that was as much honesty as Hermione was going to receiver from her.

And in the end, years took their tall. Hermione began forgetting about her parents, she began forgetting about her life before she was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett, and eventually began referring to them as 'Dad' and 'Mum'. Although the two were alarmed by it at first, it wasn't as if they were to deny her this right and remind her of her real parents; and so they accepted. They treated her like their real daughter; they visited circus, went to the only zoo around, travelled around the country and didn't have a single care in the world. And when asked by others - be it their friends or random strangers - they would always say, "This is Hermione. Our daughter."

It was around the winter of 1988 that Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett had to experience yet another shocking event.

"How was school today?" Thalya asked her nine-years-old 'daughter' as they walked back home and were about to cross the road.

"All girls in my class are talking about this new book - 'Matilda' - yet I can't find it in the library," Hermione said timidly and looked up with a hopeful look on her face. "Will you buy it for me, Mum? Please? Pretty please?"

"Hmm," she hummed, pretending to think. "This depends on what you've got in your last Maths test."

"I got full marks, Mum! You can even ask Ms. Rogers. She showed my paper to everyone and said that I'm the best student in the whole school."

"Mmhmm, so she did."

When they entered the house a few minutes later, Hermione ran towards the living room, only to sigh and sit on the lounge next to their telly. Her dad was fast asleep - it looked like he came home for a lunch break and decided to take a nap, but instead fell into a deep slumber. It wasn't unusual for him to do so, and Hermione simply sat on the lounge, tapping her knees and waiting for her Mum to come into the living room.

"You-Know-Who is reborn... You-Know-Who... will attack again.. the Boy with the Scar will be the Chosen One... he will bring misery and despair to all of us..." she heard he Dad's murmur in his sleep but didn't pay much attention to it.

In all truthfulness, this has being going on for as long as she could remember. Whenever she saw her Dad sleeping, he was always murmuring some gibberish about 'You-Know-Who' and some boy with a scar. She didn't know anyone with a scar and she even asked her Mum if she was familiar with a boy that had a scar, but Thalya always waved her off and said that her Dad was just becoming old, hence all these illogical dreams. But Hermione could clearly remember an incident two or so years ago.

It was rather late - definitely after midnight - and Hermione couldn't fall asleep for some reason. After turning and tossing around in her bed for good four hours or so, she got up and slowly walked towards her parent's bedroom. What she was presented with when she entered it, however, still shook her to her core.

Her Dad was half-sitting on their bed and his hands were placed securely on her Mum's throat; at the same time, Thalya held tight onto his hands and seemed like she was struggling to breath.

That's when it hit her: her Dad was strangling her Mum. And he was going that in his sleep.

She remember in a haze how Thalya was finally able to break Rowan's tight grip; she practically fell out of the bed and quickly picked up small Hermione, dashing out of the room and closing the door behind herself with a loud 'snap'.

They never discussed the nature of Dad's nightmares since then, but her Mum assured her that it never happened again. Hermione wasn't 100% sure whether she was telling the truth.

"Is Dad asleep?" Thalya asked when she finally entered the living room with a book in her hand. Upon further inspection Hermione realised that it was the infamous 'Matilda'!

"Oh, Mummy, you bought it!"

"I did, indeed, and it was hard pretending that I didn't," she said with a soft smile. "Now go to your room while I wake Dad up and send him off to work."

Hermione began nodding vigorously and ran up the stairs a few seconds after said words, only to enter her own room a moment later.

She had to admit that her room wasn't exactly the cleanest room in the whole world. All of her clothing was placed in the wardrobe and there was no rubbish laying around, like empty cans - it was her bookishness that cause the room to be so messy. She loved books so much she just never had enough of them, so sometimes she reread the same book two or three times, before her Mum took her out to a library or, even better, a book shop. So it was natural that sometimes she fell asleep with books on her face; when woken up in the morning, she had to place a certain book on a visible place, so that she would finish reading it when she got home. And usually this 'visible place' was the floor.

No matter how much she wanted to clean up at the moment, she just couldn't wait to finally open the book in her hands and begin reading. Hermione quickly changed, threw her stuff in a plastic bag by her doors (for all the dirty clothing) and jumped on the bed, opening the book and indulging into reading...

The book turned out to be one of the best books she read in a while. It was so realistic - save for her powers to move objects - that Hermione couldn't help but _love _the main character. She was somewhat jealous of her, of course - who wouldn't like to have some supernatural powers? - but she totally understood the situation poor Matilda was in. She was constantly undermined and bullied by her own parents and had to deal with all this abuse on her own... but she responded with as much as she got. And this true bravery, this internal strength impressed young Hermione so much that she ran out of her room and down the stairs until she reached the living room, with only her Mum there.

They had a long and interesting discussion about the book - that is, after Hermione quickly summarised it to her Mum - and then Thalya left to cook dinner for the three of them (Rowen was still working).

"I wonder if I can do something as extraordinary," Hermione huffed to herself as she followed her Mum and sat on a chair with a frown on her face.

"Well, it's all fiction, honey."

"I know, but I would love to do something... something that other people can't do," she explained and looked at the fork on the kitchen table. "Then I would be able to move objects and stuff."

"But that's not physically possible - and I know how much you believe in science."

"I do, but..." Hermione trailed off and looked at the fork with a certain tension in her eyes. Oh, if only she could do something like that.

Something inside her urged her to try it. It was stupid and completely unimaginable, yet every single part of her little body told her to try it. Was it foolish? Yes. Was this idea just a load of bollocks? Maybe.

But she was a child, wasn't she?

And there won't be any harm in trying.

_Move. Move. I tell you to move_

_Move._

And then it did. A muggle fork on a muggle table in their muggle house moved.

Hermione's eyes widened while her mother let out a gasp.

She did it.

She moved an object without touching it, just like Matilda did in the book.

She didn't know what it meant yet, but Thalya mentally smiled and couldn't help but internally dance, as it could mean one and only one thing.

She was a wizard.

**xxxx**

Note 1 - From now on Hermione will be constantly referred to as 'Hermione Winslow-Everett'. Pretty obvious, I guess. Double-barrel surnames are pretty cool, so I couldn't help myself, heh.

Note 2 - I have no idea how long I want to stretch this story our for; same goes for the length of this story and how many years will be described (next 3 school years in Hogwarts? All 7? I doubt that but let me hope) Though I have to say that I already have a general outline for the next 3 years that will go rather different from the plot in the books... and Hermione might or might not be the only one that was slightly changed for the sake of this story *spoilers*

Note 3 - I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and will leave a review; if, however, you found it tedious or you simply couldn't/can't stand my poor grammar, well... I'm sorry to disappoint and I will be eternally grateful if you find me a beta, as English isn't my first language.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter cause if I did, Voldie and Bellatrix would be the only ones who died at the end. Some of the bits in this chapter were, quite frankly, taken out of the book (but there was a purpose to it).

**xxx**

**CHAPTER 2: LETTER FROM HOGWARTS**

When Rowan entered their house that evening, he was surprised at the sudden silence. Their house was never silent - not since Hermione joined them; it wasn't unusual for him to come home and hear the two most important females in his life loudly chat about politics or cooking. It was particularly hilariously when they mixed the two and Hermione baked cookies with weird faces, naming most of them her army of 'Thatcherites'. What a smart kid, indeed.

Either way, the kitchen seemed rather quiet, so Mr. Winslow-Everett slowly closed the door behind him and strode into the living room.

"Here you are," he finally let out with a weak smile, but he didn't receive any sort of reaction. Thalya and Hermione were hunched over what looked like a book but just a single look told Rowan that something was wrong.

Oh, dammit. Pictures in the book were freaking _moving._

"Thalya, what the-"

"Wait," she stopped him before he could go on any further. She then nodded towards Hermione and gave her a nudge. "Come on, show Daddy what you showed me."

"Okay," said Hermione and took a deep breath; the girl was obviously nervous. What if it didn't work this time around? What if it was just a one-time thing?

"Here, can you move this book?"

When her mother placed a bulky book in front of her, Hermione gulped but nodded nonetheless. The subject was much bigger than a simple spoon; what were the possibilities that she would be able to move it with the same effort...

"Oh!" Rowan let out when a muggle book - one of the many they stored at their house - moved on its own. Or, rather, it was moved by Hermione's willpower.

"Have you seen that, Dad?" she asked with a bright smile and received a pat on her head. Even though she only managed to move the book by few centimetres, it still counted, right?

"I've seen that, Hermione. Can I ask you... how long were you able to do this for?"

"I only figured that I can do it today when I moved a spoon on our kitchen table," Hermione elaborated and returned to the book she and her Mum were going through just a few minutes ago. "So this Hogwarts... it's a school of magic?"

"Yes, many witches and wizards enrol in there at the age of eleven. Most of them come from the United Kingdom, as it has been when I went there, but Ministry might have changed the rules and now enables some international wizards to enrol, too," Thalya patiently explained to her, pointing at a certain picture. "That's Hogwarts about a hundred years ago but it looks pretty much the same nowadays."

Rowan shook off his initial shock and numbly sat on the floor next to them. It was a bit of a shocker how calm Thalya seemed to take the news, but maybe _the incident _happened a few hours ago so she already composed herself?

"It says here that it was formed by four people..."

"Yes, their names are Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. The four of them are known to be the greatest wizards of the time and each possessed particular qualities," Thalya explained, turning the page. There, Hermione saw four portraits of Hogwarts' founders and could tell what kind of people they were just by looking at their gestures.

Godric Gryffindor held a serious look on his face, but his otherwise soft features made him look like a brave, but nice person. Helga Hufflepuff was warmly smiling on her picture and occasionally laughed; Hermione could only think one thing - the woman was generous and loving. Next to her portrait was Rowena Ravenclaw; the fact that that it seemed like she was looking down at everyone around and felt like she was above others, she also seemed extremely smart and intelligent. Hermione had no doubt that she would _love _to end up like her in the future.

And then there was Salazar Slytherin. His face was much paler than that of his comrades - in fact, it looked like he put some face paint on before the portrait was taken. Out of the four, he looked the most sneaky and cunning, as he was planning something all along.

Thalya explained some more about how they formed houses and how each one of them represented their qualities in a certain way; both Rowan and Thalya laughed when Hermione said with a determined look on her face, "I want to get into Ravenclaw!"

"Hogwarts only accepts students at the age of 11," explained Rowan, repeating what his wife has said a few minutes ago, and turned the page himself. There, in bright golden letters, stood the words: 'Entering criteria and drop-out levels'. "You can view this book as a guide - it will tell you most things you need to know about Hogwarts, but I wouldn't worry about it for now."

"But Dad, I'm entering Hogwarts in less than three years, I have to prepare for this!" exclaimed Hermione as she picked up the book and flopped down on the lounge, with her feet hanging over the edge of the sofa.

Thalya silently motioned Rowan to follow her as she leisurely picked herself up, fixing her dress on her way to the kitchen.

Before facing her husband and explaining to him everything that has happened in the past few hours, she put the kettle on and took out the jar with sugar from the cupboard. She then proceeded to take a seat next to her husband, but not before she managed to grab a wizard magazine from her purse - it wasn't unusual for Thalya to read it while she was waiting for Hermione.

"So," Rowan began and crossed arms on his chest; he restrained himself from tapping the tabletop - it was one of the annoying habits he picked up from his older brother.

"So," Thalya repeated after him. She turned the page and began examining the big picture of Dumbledore that took three-quarters of the left-side page. "I have to say I am rather happy that Hermione turned out to be a witch."

"And?"

"What 'and'? I didn't mind it either way, you know that. Even if Hermione was an ordinary muggle-born, I would still treat her as my own daughter."

Rowan took a deep breath, "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"No? Then are you asking why I seem so fine with it?" She let out a long sigh. "I don't know, but somehow I-"

"Dammit, Thalya, you know that's know what I'm asking about!" growled Rowan, feeling impatient and irritated. Why was she playing around the bush? "Have you or have you not had anything to do with it? With her sudden outburst of magic"?"

"You're blaming _me?_" she asked in disbelief and even looked into her husband's eyes. "_Me, _of all people? You think I went to some greasy and primitive shop and asked for an object that would ensure she can use magic because she wasn't born with it? Is that what you are thinking right now?!"

"Well, I don't know, should I?"

"I thought you were above this!"

"Above what, being generally curious whether my wife had anything to do with it?"

"No, _questioning _her on the matter as if she were a suspect!"

The next few moments were filled with a strained silence; both marrieds stared at each other and didn't dare to break the eye contact.

Then, Rowan seemed to have found his answer as he looked away and ruffled his hair in resignation. "No, I don't think of you as a suspect."

"You better not, or I will pull my family strings if I have to."

Mr. Winslow-Everett let out a small laugh that reminded most people of dog's barking. "You _hate _your family - even more so than I hate my own! That's why we got married in the first place."

"Maybe so, but if you continue treating me like this I _will _take Hermione with me and move away. And you know how good I am at hiding."

Rowan narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment on the matter. It was something from the past and he had no intention of reminding both of the of _that _incident.

The situation was quickly spinning out of control, so he simply let out a small, "Sorry", only to receive a cold nod.

"Now listen to what exactly happened..."

**xxxx**

Ever since Hermione found out that she was a wizard, everything around her became new and unknown. Maybe their neighbours were wizards, too, and they were hiding from 'muggles', as her parents referred to people with no magic power - how would she know?

And all these times she saw things around her that couldn't be explained with the use of science... was it magi,c too?

It was a big surprise when, after the day of her 'revelation', her Mum and Dad woke her up for school and asked her to go downstairs to see 'something', with 'something' being hundreds and hundreds of books about wizards, witches and magic world. It felt like an early Christmas present, only much bigger and kept her occupied for months.

For instance, it took her quite some time to process that she was, as some wizards referred to it, an 'elite in the magic world' because she was a pure-blood. There weren't many books on the subject, per se, and her parents were somewhat reluctant in telling her more about the purity of blood.

If there was one thing that confused her about the whole 'blood purity', it was the fact that she wasn't informed of it earlier. It was stated in one of the books that pure-blood couples made sure their offspring inherited their magical knowledge way before they were enrolled into school. It said that pure-blood wizards were taught magic practically from the time they were able to walk - and some even earlier! The only response Hermione was able to receive from her Mum is her and Dad's fear of Hermione turning out a squib as she didn't seem to show any magical abilities earlier.

When she thought about it, it made sense, but there was still some doubt at the back of her mind, pestering her now and then; she did her best at ignoring it and eventually she simply accepted the fact that she was a pure-blood.

She also had to admit to herself that for the first time in her life, reading wasn't the most exciting thing in the world - it was now replaced with practising spells' motions and cooking potions.

Hermione found that she was good in both, but slightly better in spells' incantations which she performed using a simple brook; there were still some uncertainties regarding different ingredients in potion making. For example, when picking up and smelling a certain type of magical grass, she couldn't tell which one of them was it; they all smelled so similar!

Granted, Thalya helped her in potions. She wasn't that great herself (which she admitted after they almost blew up a kitchen and burned two pans) but it wasn't like Hermione was aiming to become the best potion maker in the history of magic in under three years.

Instead, she decided to accomplish it by the end of second year in Hogwarts.

The only down-side of being a wizard was, in fact, its famous type of sport - Quiddich; at least that's what it was seen as to Hermione. She was lucky to get a hold on some tapes and sometimes would sit with her parents, simply watching the latest Quiddich match and mesmerising at the fact that people were able to do _that. _She wasn't scared of heights - actually, far from it - but the prospect of not having any sort of additional control while you are apparating twenty or so feet over the ground was truly terrifying.

She worked as hard as she could in those two and a half years but not only for magic school - no, she made sure to be at the top of her muggle school, as well. It wasn't as if it mattered to her that much, and neither did it matter to her parents, in all honesty, as her academic success didn't define whether or not she was going to get into Hogwarts. And when asked by her parents why was she still continuing muggle education, she simply told them that she felt like it. Self-satisfaction? Perhaps, but she was willing to pull through with it even if the reason was so insignificant.

So she worked at day and dreamed of Hogwarts at night for _years_.

During her fifth year of school, she began occasionally dozing off during her lessons and, instead of taking notes and highlighting titles as she usually did, Hermione used spare sheets of paper to write the letter to herself. From Hogwarts.

_Ms. H. Winslow-Everett_

_House 11A_

_Sylvester Road_

_Wembley_

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

When she showed one of those to her mother, the latter couldn't hold back a good-natured laugh. "Blimey, I bet even Dumbledore himself doesn't remember all of his titles!"

But Hermione did - books told her everything she needed to know about Hogwarts and its staff. For example, she knew that one of them, though it wasn't specified who, was once accused of being comrades with _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

The mere mention of the reference to _Him_ made her uneasy for quite some time - that is, after she found out his identity and why everyone referred to him in such a weird manner. It was mostly because she now knew who her Dad referred to in his dreams; who he was so afraid of; who he despised to refused to talk about. And there was also this someone with a scar she had yet to meet, because she was certain: if one part of his dreams turned out to be the truth and not a simple product of his imagination, then there must be someone that had a scar and was somehow related to her Dad.

Either way, there wasn't anything she was worried about, apart from this. Well, that, and the fact that today she was going to meet yet another pure-blood family that her parents were somehow related to. She was used to those meeting - has been to dozens of those - and if she needed to describe her parents' friends in one word, it would be 'snobs'. For some reason, all pure-bloods were extremely full of themselves, and she was oh so glad her parents weren't like this...

"Hermione, did you change, love?" came her mother's voice from downstairs.

"Not yet, Mum!" she shouted back as she struggled with the zip at the back. Finally, she succeeded in zipping it all the way up and quickly proceeded to put on her thin tights. It was early spring of 1991 and the weather outside was still rather windy, but her parents were using Floo Network, so there was no need to even leave the house.

A few moments later she looked into the mirror and tried to fix her fringe, but only let out a frustrated sigh when her hair remained just as messy. There was no helping it, she will have to visit some strangers with a fringe like _this._

Hermione opened the door and ran down the stairs, careful as to not rip her tights. The smell of burned wood and powder filled her nose as she entered the room but she was used to travels via Floo Network, hence it wasn't anything unusual.

"Oh, look at our little girl, all grown up and beautiful!" Thalya exclaimed, clapping her hands. Rowan half-turned and smiled at their daughter.

"Mum, stop!" said Hermione and let out a small giggle. "This dress is a bit too big and I feel like I will fall in these tights. Can I at least not wear shoes with small heels?"

Mrs. Winslow Everett chewed on her lower lip and glanced at the said shoes that stood proudly near the fireplace. "Be it any other day, I would have said yes. But today we are visiting a family of very strong, influential and rich pure-blood wizards and wearing something like sandals might cause them to think that we disrespect them in some way."

"I thought you and Dad don't like rich pure-blood wizards?" asked Hermione with an arched eyebrow.

Rowan sighed. "And we don't. We don't see them as our friends but we just want to ensure you and their son won't conflict during your time at school."

"Their son goes there?"

"Not yet, but he will enrol into Hogwarts this autumn, too," explained Thalya. "We don't know yet which House you will be a part of, but just in case you will happen to be in Slytherin..."

Hermione nodded, "And how do you know that he will be in Slytherin?"

"He is a pure-blood and everyone from his family were in Slytherin; it is only expected," said Thalya and took out a jar with Floo powder. "Now, put on your shoes and step into the fireplace. Me and your Dad will follow you soon after."

She sighed but did as she was told, slightly wobbling because of the heels, never mind how minor they were. She then took some of the powder from the said jar, struggling not to sneeze.

"Remember, nice and loud," said Thalya with a smile.

"Malfoy Manor!"

**xxxx**

She happened to have read about Wiltshire before. It was a lovely place that was both muggle- and wizard-occupied. However, she didn't have a luxury of exploring it, for she was teleported right to the manor. Maybe it was for the better, though, seeing as the trees outside kept shaking, thanks to the heavy wind.

It appeared that she was in the kitchen, if dozens of house-elves who kept running around with pans and other cutlery was any indicator. The smell that filled the kitchen wasn't unpleasant, but in Hermione's opinion it was a bit too strong. The smell of every single dish was mixed together, only to form a cacophony of the overall sweetness and bitterness.

She got a hold of one of the elves and asked him where were Malfoys waiting for them. The latter shook under her gaze and hurriedly replied, "They are waiting for you in the living room! Only take two turns to the right and you will be there, M-Miss."

Hermione nodded and looked at the fireplace, waiting for her parents and feeling kind of bad for the incident before. In her whole life, she has never actually met an elf, hence she had no idea how to act around them. Many of the books about house-elves stated that they were no more than mere servants and that the point of their whole existence was to serve wizards. She herself thought that it was rather wrong and inhuman - how can you treat whole species as nothing more but servants? Her parents, however, told her that it was this way for a long time, so there was no need in changing anything. They also said that house-elves _enjoyed _being ordered around and that they saw no point in living without it. Was it actually true, though? She would have to ask a house-elf sometime in the future, then.

Quiet crackling in the fireplace alarmed her and she turned around, seeing as both of her parents emerged from a bright-green fire. Thalya began vigorously shaking off any possible dust from her brown hair, while Rowan looked down at his black trousers and groaned: they were practically covered in powder!

"I already asked one of the elves when Malfoys are," said Hermione with a proud smile.

"Jolly good. Shall we go, then?" Mrs. Winslow-Everett asked when all of the dust was gone. Her husband gave her a nod after he used a simple cleaning spell to get rid of the powder.

"Let's present ourselves in the best possible way," he said and offered a hand for his wife, which she took hold of a second later. "Hermione, walk by our side and tell us the directions."

She hummed and began walking by her Mum's side, struggling not to fall down in the _damn _heels.

They finally arrived at the living room not two minutes later and were quite surprised upon being met by only three people; in all honesty, they expected to seem some of their relatives and, perhaps, some rich friends.

"Winslow-Everett, how nice that you have finally arrived," the head of the family - Lucius Malfoy - said with an all-knowing smile. Hermione thought of a sneaky snake - that's what he reminded her of. "Please, take a seat. The food will arrive in a few moments."

Hermione followed her parents. Rowan sat at the opposite head of the table with Hermione to his right and Thalya to his left; because the table was so big, they and Malfoys were separated by at least eleven seats.

"Are we late, Lucius?" asked Rowan in a bored voice.

"No, you arrived just in time, though if you were to follow a simple etiquette, you would have arrived earlier or called beforehand to see if anything got cancelled," said Lucius and pointed at his wife. "But enough about this, let me introduce my family. This is my lovely wife, Narcissa."

"A pleasure to meet you," said Thalya with a weak smile.

"The pleasure is all mine," came Narcissa's monotone reply.

"And this is my son, Draco. He will get a letter from Hogwarts in a few months and become a part of Slytherin, just as all of his ancestors did."

Draco - a small boy with unnaturally blond hair - didn't seem all too pleased to meet them. Hermione wasn't too sure, as he sat on the other side of the table and his face was nothing but a blur, but his overall guarded body language told her so.

"Oh, then let me introduce my family," said Rowan after a pause. "I'm sure both of you know my wife, Thalya. And this is our daughter, Hermione."

"Hermione, hmm? What an unusual name," noted Narcissa as she examined the small girl with a bushy hair. "Is she going too attend Hogwarts this autumn, too?"

"But of course," came Thalya's hurried response as she looked at her daughter. "She has been practising for _years _and as soon as we buy her a wand, she will show everyone in Hogwarts just how good she really is."

Adults continued having a general conversation about what they expected their kids to achieve, as well as discussing the latest news, but Hermione wasn't interested in it one bit. Instead, she began eating as soon as the food arrived and kept glancing at the boy - Draco, wasn't it?

He didn't seem to like the food, or perhaps he just wasn't hungry, but either way he didn't take a single bite of his steak and continued sitting at the table, stabbing the piece of meat with his fork. Hermione wasn't so careless - besides, she was a bit hungry - so she tried what she was offered and wasn't disappointed.

The rest of the dinner went in a similar manner and when they were finished, Lucius and Rowan advised their children to go on and play somewhere else while 'adults have their adult conversation'. Hermione didn't mind and Draco seemed openly bored, so they left the living room.

"Where are we going?" she asked him a few minutes later of simply following suit.

"To my room - there isn't any other place in the manor where we can be without my parents being displeased with it," said Draco with a shrug and, after a pause, looked back at her. "I don't know why I should tolerate you."

Hermione's eyebrow twitched, "You don't _need _to tolerate me. Just tell me the way to an empty room and I can be left on my own. I will tell my parents that me and you had a decent conversation."

"Sorry, that I can't do," he said and motioned towards the portraits on the wall. "See those? They previously lived in the Malfoy Manor and they support my parents, so they will tell my Mum and Dad that I didn't treat you like a guest. And I was told that I have to."

Silence.

"Why are you being so rude? I haven't even done anything to you!" said Hermione as they reached his room and entered.

"It's not the matter of whether or not you do," said Draco exasperatedly and gave her an arrogant smile. "Do you really think my parents invited your family here to have a nice chat or something?"

"Why else would they invite us?"

"Pff, and they said you are at the top of your class and know more about magic than some wizards far older than you do," he snickered and sat down on an armchair, crossing arms on his chest. "Otherwise, you are completely clueless, aren't you?"

Hermione took a deep breath and thought of it for a moment, "I can imagine what you are thinking. You probably think that your parents wanted to show you just how smart some wizards of your age are and that you should be careful or I will be the one at the top of all of my classes."

Draco squinted his eyes and chuckled. "So I do, but they don't have anything to worry about. It doesn't matter that we are both pure-bloods - _I _will be better than you in everything and you will be left speechless because _I don't have to study as much as most people do._ I'm just naturally smart."

"Yeah, if you say so, oh Great Draco," she joked, rolling her eyes. When he didn't respond, she looked around the room and noted how clean it was. "Did your parents made you clean it before we arrived?"

"Heh, maybe _your _parents do that, but my parents make sure everything is cleaned all the time, in case someone comes to our house," he answered and pointed at the second armchair. "There. Sit."

"Are you ordering me around, _Malfoy?_"

"I could, seeing as we are in _my _house and I'm being a gentleman, _Winslow-Everett_, but I just feel bad for your shoes."

When she gave him a confused look, he expanded on his answer, "Don't think I haven't realised that you can barely walk in these. No wonder - what kind of shoes would hold all this fat?"

She gasped and bared her teeth at him, "_You didn't just-"_

"What? Told you the truth?" he said with a smirk. "Yeah, you are _a bit _on a fat side. I don't think that last piece of steak was necessary."

"It's better being fat than having bleached hair," she said in response; in muggle school, she was often teased for being a 'bookworm' because she always studied and didn't go out, so she knew how to respond to the bullies. Ignoring them never helped.

Draco looked at her as if she just grew a second head, "Bleached? This is my natural hair colour!"

"Yeah, kind of makes you look like a _ferret," _said Hermione on a finishing note and left his room with a loud _slam._

If only she knew that it was first of many meeting she had yet to encounter with Draco.

**xxxx**

After that 'awful' dinner they attended in Malfoy Manor in spring, Hermione refused to visit any more of her parents' friends. They kept telling her that not all pure-blood family were as bad as Malfoys, but she refused again and again. God, she even had a nightmare that Lucius and Narcissa were her parents and Draco was her older brother who kept throwing Licorine Snaps at her, all the while laughing like some crazy lunatic.

But then came summer and she forgot everything about Malfoys and the upsetting events that took place in the spring.

Because it meant that she was about to receive a letter from Hogwarts. And she had to say 'goodbye' to everyone in her muggle school as it was unlikely she would ever meet them again.

Essentially, it meant that she was able to do as she willed without getting into trouble. So waking up on the last day of school was amazing.

She came to school earlier than usual and strode down the corridor, commenting on everyone's uniform: skirt too short, greasy tie, dirty shoes, undone shirt. Literature lesson, however, was by far the best: she simply sat on her desk and read her favourite book. And that was it. She didn't listen to her teacher's 'We should be examining a poem, Ms. Winslow-Everett', nor did she pay attention to her classmates' whispers.

Yes, by far it was the best day in school.

"You seem really happy. Did something good happen in school today?" asked Mrs. Winslow-Everett when she picked up her daughter from school.

"Mmm, maybe," she said cheerfully and began skipping.

The next week or so was spent in anticipation. Hermione read every single book that they owned and practised the motions for every spell that first years would ever need.

And when on nineteenth of July, instead of being woken up by her annoying clock, she woke up to something knocking in her window, she already knew what was happening even before opening her eyes.

Yep, it was an own, trying to get into her room.

She quickly jumped off the bed and opened the window, in order to let the owl to fly in. The own was black with a few grey feathers, but grey didn't make her look any less majestic.

Hermione didn't waste any time and took the envelope from the owl's beak. Her heart rate increased when she saw a Hogwarts' emblem at the back, along with its logo. On the other side of the envelope she saw that it was indeed addressed to her.

_Ms. H. Winslow-Everett,_

_The Room On The Second Floor,_

_11A, Sylvester Road,_

_Wembley_

If it were any other envelope, she would have went and picked up a knife or scisors to carefully open it, but it was no ordinary letter, so she ripped the seal open at once and carefully took out the letter.

_Dear Mrs. Winslow-Everett,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Your sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

She let out a loud scream and ran down the stairs, holding tightly onto the letter in her hands and completely forgetting about the own in her room.

"Mum, Dad, I go my letter!" she shouted, knowing that her parents were at the kitchen even before she was able to pick up on the strong smell of omelette and cheese. "Look, it has Hogwarts' emblem, too!"

Thalya clasped her hands and gave her daughter a big hug, "Now we can get ready for school!"

"And don't forget to send a letter back, stating that you accept the offer," said Rowan, sipping his morning coffee. "A lot of first-years forget about it and it often results in someone bursting into their house and demanding why did they forget to send a letter back."

"I know! I will write a letter back after breakfast," said Hermione and sat on a chair next to her Dad. She put the letter right next to her empty glass and kept staring at the piece of parchment, while her mother was filling up her plate.

"So when are we going to buy all the supplies you need for school?" Thalya enquired after she was finished and took a seat next to her husband.

"I didn't check what we need to buy," Hermione admitted with a bit of shame and quickly flipped to the attached pages.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set of glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope set_

_1 brass scales_

_Students may also bring an own OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

_Your sincerely,_

_Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus_

_Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_

"Ah, Lucinda? I remember her," said Rowan, reading over his daughter's shoulder.

"You've met her?" gasped Hermione in disbelief. "But Dad, she is _the_ Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions - she makes a specific list of what everyone should be provided with!"

"I don't see what's so exciting about it, to be honest," came Thalya's comment as she chewed on her bacon. "There is still a wizard committee that checks everything she enlists. Quite frankly, there is no point of having her, other than to write someone's name at the bottom of the paper."

Hermione didn't say anything and only looked down at the list once again. She was allowed to have an animal, right? But which one...

Toads seemed boring and pretty useless, if she were to be honest, even if they were magical - you had to constantly make sure they don't run away, as well as dealing with their guttural croaking. So, it was between cats and owls.

She tapped her finger on the tabletop and leisurely chewed her omelette, grabbing some ketchup from the cupboard and generously pouring it over her bacon. When she received questioning looks from her parents, she simply replied with, "I'm starving!" and resumed eating.

Cats were balls of fur, friendly and lazy; owls, on the other hand, were usually out of their cages, flying wherever they wanted and enjoying their freedom. Which one of them suited her more?

"Cats. Definitely cats," said Thalya off-handedly as she picked her empty plate and placed it in the sink. Hermione blink once, twice, and looked at her mother in disbelief. Wait, did she just read her mind?

"Your mother is a good Legilimens," Rowan explained to her. Hermione thought back to the definition of 'Legilimens' and nodded, still feeling rather hazy due to receiving a letter from Hogwarts.

"But isn't Legilimency basically intruding into someone else's mind?" she asked after a moment. She could remember quite clearly that there were certain rules that prohibited it in certain situations. "It's not like it's against the law, but it's still not something you should do just because, Mum."

"Oh, I know that, alright," said Mrs. Winslow-Everett with a thoughtful expression on her face and then muttered, "Dumbledore told me that more times than I can remember, though he never did it willingly. It was always McGonagall that urged him to talk to me about it."

Rowan snickered but masked it under a fit of coughs. Now that wasn't something Hermione has heard about before, but she wasn't going to press the matter, "Why do you think that I should get a cat?"

Thalya didn't respond straight away, "I imagine you will need someone to look after you during your first year in Hogwarts."

"Mum, I'm already eleven, soon to be twelve!"

"Okay, I didn't mean it like that. What I was trying to say is... you just need someone by your side. For comfort. Owls represent freedom and they would rather prefer to fly than stay in a cage, no matter how loving their owner might be."

Hermione nodded, but she still wasn't convinced.

"Alright then, how about we travel to the Diagon Alley and find out which animal she would rather prefer?" asked Rowan, talking to his wife. She arched her eyebrow but he only shrugged. "I can miss one day of work."

"So you can," she muttered to herself but sighed in resignation. "Then, it's decided. Hermione, quickly take a shower - we will be waiting for you in the car. And don't forget to close the main door."

Hermione got on her feet in less than a second and ran towards her room, "I'll be done in five minutes!"

She slightly regretted the fact that she forgot to wash her hair the day before and now it looked like a bird's nest, but they were going to a place, packed with wizards and witches, and she doubted anyone would actually pay attention to something as minor as this.

She spent good two minutes after her shower, picking the right clothes, but she ended up with wearing a dark-brown top and light jeans. Not the worst things from her wardrobe, to be fair.

When she was about to leave the house in a hurry, she grabbed her notebook in the living room and dashed out, as if someone was after her.

"Well done, this was quicker than I expected," said Mr. Winslow-Everett and his wife only rolled her eyes and gave out an exasperate sigh.

"There was no need for you to hurry so much, we've got plenty of time," she amended with a soft smile and watched as her daughter locked the door. "I've got your letter, hun."

"Yeah, I know," she said and got into their car. It soon took off.

The weather was unnaturally hot for London. Everyone expected it to be a bit breezy, but instead it was full-on 30 degrees Celsius. Hermione even regretted that she didn't wear one of her skirts but alas they were already approaching their final destination - at least that's what Rowan said to her - so there was no point complaining about it now.

When they finally pulled off, Hermione looked at her parents in confusion. She expected there to be some grand opening that only wizards could see, but instead...

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione," said Thalya, motioning towards a small pub that was surrounded by far greater buildings. It appeared that Hermione was right in one thing, though: it seemed that muggles simply couldn't see it as their gaze slid off one of the shops and went straight to the nearby restaurant. The little pub was ignored.

"Is it some kind of an entrance?" she asked cautiously.

Her parents exchanged glances but didn't say anything; Rowan simply made sure he locked the car's door and urged Hermione to follow him.

They entered the pub and it just supported what Hermione thought of it in the first place - a small, dirty pub that smelled like a mixture of alcohol and smoke.

The Leaky Cauldron was nothing but a stereotypical pub, at the first glance, and Hermione simply wished they got out of it as soon as possible. In her life, she has never been to one of those (obviously) and wasn't eager to visit them any time soon, either.

She looked around and saw all sorts of people, though most of them were middle-aged man who drank pint after pint. However, she found it fascinating how different they were from each other - perhaps, different species; some of them almost touched the ceiling even though they were sitting, while others barely reached the height of a chair.

"Anything to drink, Rowan?" came a loud question from behind, which made Hermione jump from surprise.

"Tom! Long time no see!" two men exchanged a hug. "Nah, I'm alright, mate - just going to Diagon Alley with my wife and daughter. Hermione finally got a letter from Hogwarts."

"Ahh, it seems like you will be spending a lot of money today, huh?" Tom said jokingly, to which Mr. Winslow-Everett replied with an eye roll.

"Don't even get me started. Well, at least first-years don't need their own broomsticks, or I would have to organise charity and all that."

The two laughed and soon Rowan led them out of the pub, but not through the main entrance - instead, he headed towards pub's emergency exit.

Hermione was finally able to breath in some fresh air when the left the building. It was a small space behind the pub but it was for a small group of people. She located a few trash cans, however they didn't produce any smell, as one would expect.

"Tom seemed eager to see you? Did something happen during your previous encounter?" asked Thalya in a 'I-don't-really-care-but-I-might-as-well-ask' tone.

"You can say so," he said and wet his lips. "Alright..."

Rowan counted the bricks in the wall above one of the trash cans.

"Three up and two across, wasn't it?" he addressed to his wife.

"Yes, as far as I remember," she said back.

"Good. Hermione, come and stand here." He then tapped the wall exactly three times with his wand. Bricks around that that point began quivering and soon a small hole appeared in the wall. It slowly expanded and soon it was big enough to fit a tall person.

Hermione stepped out and stood in awe, trying to take everything in. After all, it was something that she has wished to see for _years _but didn't have any reason to visit with her parents.

"This," said Thalya after stepping over the remaining bricks, "is Diagon Alley."

**xxxx**

Note 1 - Thank you so much for your comments and support! Yay, it seems like my general idea wasn't that bad, though I say _general - _there is much more to it that just Hermione's upbringing.

Note 2 - I skipped quite a few years in these two chapters, didn't I? But fear not, now I will do my best in describing Hermione's life in Hogwarts without skipping much (except for rare occasions). Oh, and why would Hermione wake up early during holidays? I imagine she would use this time to study and practice.

Note 3 - For some reason, I just can't imagine Draco and Hermione being all friendly when they met for the first time, even if the two were pure-bloods. They are just way too competitive, you know? But the story is Definitely DM/HG, don't worry. And leave a review, if you can :)

P.S. Do you like the length of my chapters (~6k) or would you like them to be longer (sorry, can't find it in myself to make them shorter haha)? My personal preference is 8k-9k, just saying.


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